


A Cage of Mithril

by Artemisdesari



Series: Soul Stones [7]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Durin has opinions, Durin swears, Gen, Mahal carves his children, Mahal's peanut gallery, but not as much as in the last couple, soul stones, stones have meaning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 03:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20772116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemisdesari/pseuds/Artemisdesari
Summary: Aulë rolls his eyes and sends a brief request to his Father for strength and patience. He gets nothing and begins to eye the surface of the workbench. Maybe smashing his face into it isn’t such a terrible idea. He doesn’t, but only because the piece he’s working on is incredibly delicate and if he gets it wrong everything he has put into Fili, Kili and the others like them will have been wasted.





	A Cage of Mithril

“About _fucking _time!” Durin crows.

Aulë resists the urge to smash his face into his work bench. Durin has been confined to his presence for the last four and a half months. The duration of the quest for Erebor had been trying, but that was nothing on _this_. Then, Durin had come and gone, and his muttered commentary had been vaguely entertaining. Now, Durin spends most of his time watching the outcome of his little rebellion, which doesn’t always seem to go quite the way that he would like.

“_That_ is how you woo a lass,” Durin continues in satisfaction. “None of this prim and proper courtship _crap_.”

Aulë looks at the mirror of burnished gold and smiles.

“Kili and Tir managed _that_ part years ago,” he says. “It’s about time he recognised it.”

“He’s doing a better job than Fili,” Durin grumbles and the mirror shifts to show the rest of the Company gathered together. Fili and Arja are slightly apart from the rest, talking and sharing flirtatious smiles but standing just far enough apart to satisfy the hawk-like gaze of Dis.

“Arja needs a different approach,” Aulë sighs. “Just because it’s not the approach _you_ would use-”

“Of the two of us, I’ve got the most experience,” Durin interrupts with a roll of his eyes. “I’ve had to woo _my_ wife six fucking times.”

Which is a fair point. The downside of creating soul pairs is that when one is reincarnated the other often has to be as well. The difference between Durin and _his_ wife is that Aulë does her the favour of not remembering her past incarnations.

“They’ll get there,” Aulë assures him.

“I’ll believe _that_ when I fucking see it,” is the grumbled reply. “At the rate _they’re_ going I’ll be stuck here for another century.”

A vaguely horrifying thought and _not_ an outcome that Aulë is willing to entertain. Even if he has to browbeat Thorin and the council into submission himself. Which also doesn’t happen to be a happy prospect and is likely to draw his Father’s ire once again for meddling where it isn’t wanted or needed.

“Have a little bit of faith,” he tells his eldest.

“If I had faith in _you_ to fix things Fili would still be here carving souls instead of fucking around with this courtship nonsense.”

Aulë rolls his eyes and sends a brief request to his Father for strength and patience. He gets nothing and begins to eye the surface of the workbench. Maybe smashing his face into it isn’t _such_ a terrible idea. He doesn’t, but only because the piece he’s working on is incredibly delicate and if he gets it _wrong_ everything he has put into Fili, Kili and the others like them will have been wasted.

Durin turns back to his work when it becomes clear that Aulë isn’t going to reply to that particular comment and they continue in silence with only the odd glance at the mirror to see what the Company are up to. Aulë smiles when Fili and Arja help Kili and Tir sneak back into the room. The pair haven’t been missed, fortunately, because had they been Aulë suspects they wouldn’t _need_ the mirror to hear Thorin’s thundering lecture on expected behaviour. Kili wouldn’t be the first dwarf to take a lover (Dori, Nori and Ori’s line is evidence enough of that), but he would rather things with Tir smoothed out and went the way that they are _meant_ to. There is plenty of time for them to get into trouble _after_ they have sorted themselves out properly. Perhaps he should have put a few _less_ rubies into Kili, such a passionate heart is always the sort to create extra problems.

“He’s _leaving_!” The door to the workroom slams open and Aulë flinches at the anguished sound of his wife’s voice.

Yavanna has been effectively banned from tending to her garden of new souls for her interference. Her task there has never been as time consuming as his with _his_ children. Hers grow. His have to be individually crafted. The souls of the hobbits who have passed from life are more than capable of planting and tending to the rows of new souls until it is time for them to be sent into the world. It is how she managed to get away with spending so many months _here_ watching over the Company.

“Who’s leaving?” Aulë asks blandly and Durin snorts.

“The fucking _halfling_, don’t you pay attention anymore?” The dwarf lord asks.

“I don’t need to,” Aulë sighs and sets his tools aside once more. “Everything I need to know, and most of what I _don’t,_ is passed on by _you_.” He bends to examine the work he has done so far, looking for any sign that this interruption will have damaged it. “Now, if the pair of you don’t mind, this is delicate.”

“You can always start again,” Yavanna waves a hand. “Now what are you going to do about it?”

“I’ve restarted it four times already thanks to that one,” he points crossly at Durin. “Do about what?”

“_Bilbo_!” His wife cries. “What are you going to do about Bilbo leaving?”

“Oh, that,” he shrugs. “Nothing.”

“_Nothing?”_ He winces at the pitch of her voice. “Tell Thorin he _has_ to get Bilbo to stay!”

“Scrap for brains isn’t the problem,” Durin snorts. “He’d _love_ to get Bilbo to stay. The _problem_ is with _your_ hobbit. Thorin’s offered him all sorts of ridiculous and impractical things to get him to stay. It might have worked, if the hobbit had a couple more stones in him and was less of a walking flower garden.”

“It wouldn’t have happened at all if your messenger had done a better job of separating Kili and Tauriel,” she snaps. “Bilbo felt like he _had _to go because of all that rubbish about finding a proper spouse for Thorin’s heirs.”

“That wouldn’t have affected Bilbo and he knew it,” Durin shrugs. “Thorin _has_ two perfectly good heirs and there’s no chance of Bilbo producing a child to muddy the succession. Your hobbit has ‘_affairs to set in order’_, there’s nothing that Thorin can do about that.”

“If you two are quite done?” Aulë asks. “I’m as forbidden to interfere are _you_ are, my wife,” he says when they go silent. “However, if I were to _suggest_ to Thorin that he mount an expedition to fetch Bilbo should he not return after five years, would that meet with your approval?”

“It will do,” Yavanna replies, although her tone implies that this is _not_ the solution that she had in mind.

“Fantastic,” Aulë rubs his hands together. “Now, if there’s nothing else?”

Yavanna glares at him, turns on her heel, and storms out. Aulë is sure he is going to feel her ire on this subject for quite some time and a lesser being would quail at the thought. He does not, however, have a solution for her that will _not_ bring Eru down on them in utter fury. As it is, they are already treading far too close to interference just by making a _suggestion_. He resigns himself to it and looks back at his work. He is going to _have_ to start again, there is the tiniest of imperfections that he could _probably_ correct but he isn’t willing to take the risk.

“That’s the way to do it, lad,” Durin laughs some time later (days, weeks, months or years, Aulë doesn’t know). He glances up at the mirror and promptly switches it off. “What did you do _that_ for?” Durin demands.

“Because Fili doesn’t need you watching,” Aulë replies. “If you’re getting urges like _that_ go and see your wife, don’t spy on your descendants.”

“Well I _would_,” Durin snarks. “If I weren’t stuck in here with _you_.”

“Believe me,” Aulë mutters, “this is just as much fun for _me_. If you would shut up and let me concentrate on this I could have you in the pool sooner.”

“What _are_ you working on?” Durin ambles over, obviously bored but also curious.

“A solution,” Aulë replies.

The problem with Durin, is that his heart has been affected by a great many things over the course of his reincarnations. Those things don’t leave when he is born into a new body because they have affected him in his soul. Sauron’s rings happen to be one of those things and even though the ring Durin once held has now been destroyed the affect it had on his soul is permanent. As soon as he is old enough the greed that it warped his love of creating into will begin to consume him again. Aulë has no idea whether it will happen immediately or not, but he knows that he cannot afford for it to happen. Fili and Kili are the start of a new future for his dwarves, the last thing he wants is to end that future before it has a chance to take hold.

He can’t change what Durin is made of. The stones and metals are as much a part of him as anything else and it would damage the soul to remove them permanently. What he _can_ do is _add_ to it. Which is precisely his intention. Upon the work bench sits a delicate mithril lattice, fine enough that everything inside will be clearly seen, but strong enough to protect the gold and gems from outside influences and prevent the little bits of darkness still there from having an effect. The joy of it, he thinks, is that in order for it to fully meld with the rest of Durin’s soul the first of the Seven Father’s will have to lie in the pool for a number of years, probably even decades. He will have no awareness of it at all and will simply pass onto the womb of his future mother when the time comes. Aulë will finally get a little bit of peace to make amends to his wife and everyone can walk away from it happy.

Except Fili, who will have to contend with raising Durin from infancy but then Aulë did warn him that there would be consequences.

“Is it ready?” Durin asks, hands trembling a little as he reaches for the cage.

“Finish the little one you’re working on,” Aulë says, “and we’ll see about getting you ready for your next life.”

The soul, when Durin is finished, is beautiful. Possibly one of his best creations in fact, and Aulë sets her to one side. He had promised himself that he would give Durin a sibling or two, and it is time that his line was blessed with a couple of daughters. Not that he tells Durin this, the better that he doesn’t know that he will have created the soul of his own sister. Besides, he has enough to worry about. Durin is understandably wary of what Aulë is about to do. This will change the very fabric of his _soul_ and he chatters away nervously, all signs of his usual brashness gone, as Aulë carefully removes his heart and fits the cage around it. The result, he thinks, is exquisite. Durin isn’t conscious to see it, but that is for the best and he lowers the remade soul into birth pool to heal and wait for his time.

Years later, in the blissful peace of his workroom and surrounded by new souls delivered by those he trusts to carve them Aulë looks up from his latest creation and smiles. It is time and this is one birth that he is permitted to be attend. He’s actually looking forward to it, it will be good to see Fili and he might even get to drop in on Kili and Thorin at the same time. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's shorter, I know, but here we are. I've got a couple more ideas for this series but it's starting to wind down now. If there is anything you would like to see, let me know and I'll see if I can get it in there somewhere.


End file.
